


The Truce

by Sir_Bedevere



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Armchair Therapy, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Remembrance Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27455050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Bedevere/pseuds/Sir_Bedevere
Summary: Ever since Alison and Mike had unearthed the bomb in the garden, Cap had been acting quite strangely. Well, more strangely than usual. Pat was sure that he was barely sleeping. At least, he always seemed to be up and about if ever he was up himself in the middle of the night. And Humphrey said that he’d seen him patrolling the grounds at all hours, checking and rechecking the perimeter.  Pat was sure it was something to do with the bomb and the old memories that it must have dredged up.Pat arranges for the Captain to sit down and watch the Remembrance Sunday parade, hoping that it might encourage Cap to talk about what's bothering him - or to say anything, really.
Relationships: The Captain & Pat (Ghosts TV 2019)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 127





	The Truce

The television schedule was usually suspended over the weekends. Alison said it was only fair that Mike had his turn, and the weekends were best as he liked watching the sports on the bigger screen. As that sport was usually football, Pat personally didn’t mind at all. It had been a long time since he’d been able to check on how Leeds United were doing, and although it turned out they were pretty rubbish, it was still nice to sit next to Mike on the sofa and watch the matches. Or to watch Match of the Day, if it was late in the evening. 

Alison said she didn’t mind who joined Mike as long as they didn’t bother him, and seeing as Pat was definitely not one of the annoying members of the household, he had no worries about being there. Usually, he was the only one who did sit down to watch; none of the others had much interest in football, although Robin would sometimes sit and watch some Formula One racing, and a couple of times during the Ashes Mike had flipped over to the cricket and Pat had turned around to find the Captain hovering in the doorway. 

But it was mostly football, and it was mostly weekends. 

But for this weekend, Pat had something different in mind. 

On the Friday night, he went down to the kitchen to find Alison, who was trying to fit a very large pizza into the aga oven and swearing her head off as Mary looked on, offering helpful advice. 

“Er, Alison?”

“One minute, Pat. Who knew how small this oven actually was, huh?”

“Well, I dids say I didn’t think-”

“Yes, you were right, I admit. Gonna have to cut it into pieces,” Alison said, cutting Mary off, and grabbing the scissors. As she hacked at the pizza, Mary laughed and drifted away. 

“What’s up, Pat?”

“Oh.” 

He perched on the edge of one of the chairs at the table, watching the back of Alison’s head. 

“Well, I was wondering if this Sunday morning, we could have the television. Only I think, if I’m right, that it’s the Remembrance Sunday?”

Alison made a noise of triumph and slammed the aga door shut. 

“Nailed it,” she said, bouncing to her feet. “And yeah, you’re right. It is. And yes, you can have the TV. I think it would be good for him.”

Pat smiled at her. He hadn’t even mentioned the Captain but honestly it didn’t take a genius to work out who might enjoy the news coverage. Ever since Alison and Mike had unearthed the bomb in the garden, Cap had been acting quite strangely. Well, more strangely than usual. Pat was sure that he was barely sleeping. At least, he always seemed to be up and about if ever he was up himself in the middle of the night. And Humphrey said that he’d seen him patrolling the grounds at all hours, checking and rechecking the perimeter. 

And he was having odd moments of temper, sharper than he normally was. Pat was sure it was something to do with the bomb and the old memories that it must have dredged up. 

“I’m glad that you think he’s being odd too,” Pat said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Thanks for changing the routine.”

“It’s alright,” Alison said, filling up the kettle. “I’ll even do you one better than that. I will try and keep Kitty and Robin busy. Thomas too. So that you and Cap can sit quietly. I think that would be better, don’t you? I’m sure the others wouldn’t bother you.”

Pat was sure that, sometimes, he felt a warmth inside himself when he was happy. Perhaps it was just the memory of the feeling, but either way, it was a very nice thing. 

“I think that sounds grand, Alison. Thank you.”

On Sunday morning, the plan was put into action. Pat caught Mike switching the television onto the news channel, and carefully lining up the remote on the table in the normal place. Alison tended to leave it there because Julian could do the buttons if they needed him to, and she wasn’t around to help. Mike looked around him and put his thumb up, then wandered off. Pat wished he could speak to him. He was such a good lad.

Anyway, no time for that. He set off to find the Captain, sure that he’d be out stalking the perimeter of the house at about that time. As Pat slipped through the front door, he heard Alison’s voice echo down the stairs, and Kitty’s excited reply. Alison certainly had taken on a task, keeping their more curious housemates busy for a few hours, but Pat still thought his job might be harder. It was impossible to know which Captain he’d find that morning.  
He marched around the side of the house and, to his surprise, found the Captain easily. He was standing at about the place where the bomb had been buried, his hands gripping his stick behind his back and his shoulders up around his ears. 

Pat cleared his throat, but Cap still jumped. 

“Ah, Pat. Sorry. I er – didn’t hear you coming.” 

“No apologies necessary. I’ve come to ask if you want to – Alison says we can have the television this morning.”

“What for? It’s Sunday.”

“I know,” Pat said. “But it’s Remembrance Sunday and I thought you might like to watch the parade. Or a bit of it, anyway. I know you’ve never had the chance before.”

For a moment, the Captain didn’t reply. Pat didn’t push him. He was obviously working through something, stuck somewhere in his memory, and Pat would never force him to do anything. He had a strange feeling, at least lately, that it would be very, very easy to push Cap over the edge. The edge of what, he didn’t know. But it wouldn’t be good. 

“Er – I don’t know, Pat. It all seems – that is to say –”

“You don’t have to,” Pat said quickly. “I don’t mind if you don’t want to. But if it helps you make up your mind, Alison is keeping Kitty, Robin and Thomas busy so they don’t bother us. And the others won’t be interested, will they?”

“No, I – I suppose not,” the Captain said. “Alright, then.”

Pat smiled and clapped his hands together. 

“Great. Come on then. Mike’s left the television on for us.”

The Captain turned and abruptly marched into the house. Pat followed him, a few steps behind. It was very quiet inside, just how Cap liked it, and Pat saw his shoulders drop just a bit. Hopefully, they’d be able to sit quietly and watch the coverage undisturbed. Cap wouldn’t stick around if anyone else came barrelling in. It was lot to ask of him to tolerate even Pat’s presence there. Pat couldn’t be sure, of course, but he was sure that it would be an emotional thing for the Captain, even if he didn’t let it show. 

It was almost eleven am, according to the clock on the screen, by the time that they sat down. The Captain was sitting straight up, stick across his knees, eyes fixed on the screen. Pat relaxed a little more on his side of the sofa, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. It occurred to him, suddenly, that surely if the Captain had wanted this he’d have asked Alison himself? 

“Did you ever go to the Cenotaph?” the Captain asked suddenly, as on screen people began to file out, holding their poppy wreaths, and standing around the Cenotaph. 

“Yeah,” Pat said softly. “I took the troop there once or twice, on our big London trips. 1921, it was built?”

“1920,” the Captain said. “I er – I went to see it just after it went up. A magnificent thing.”

“How old were you?”

The Captain’s hands clenched nervously at his stick, and Pat cursed his curiosity. 

“1920, I was – twenty-two. Or twenty-three.”

Pat did some maths in his head. 

“So you were – did you fight in the first one as well?”

“Yes. For two years. I was sixteen in 1916. Talked my way in.”

“Wow. I didn’t know.”

“Well. Why would you?”

There was no answer to that, because they both knew it already. Pat didn’t know because the Captain hadn’t told them. Hadn’t told any of them much of anything. But he was here now, on the sofa, and he was sharing. It wasn’t much, but for him, it was everything. 

It was too much, at least to think of right then. Pat knew his history. He knew what the First World War had done to the men who fought in it. And to think Cap had been there. Out in those trenches. And just sixteen too. 

The parade had changed very little since his day, and for that Pat was grateful. They sat side by side, in a thankfully silent house, as the eleven o’clock silence came and went, then watched the dignitaries placing their poppy wreaths on the Cenotaph steps. Cap didn’t speak once, except to clarify who Prince Charles was.  
It wasn’t really this bit that Pat had wanted him to see though, and when they finally got to the veterans’ parade, he sat up a bit straighter. 

“This is always the best bit,” he said quietly. “My dad went a few times, when he was older. Always made him dead proud.”

“Did he –”

“Paratrooper, 1st Parachute Brigade. Best thing he ever did, he said.”

Cap turned his head, just enough to look at Pat from the corner of his eye. 

“1st? So – North Africa?”

“Tunisia, yeah. You know your stuff, don’t you?” Pat said lightly, because the Captain’s jaw was clenched, a muscle twitching in his cheek. 

“Always did have an interest in the African campaign,” Cap said eventually. “Fascinating stuff.”

“Yeah.”

Pat knew he’d hit a nerve there somewhere; the Captain had just been starting to relax, and now he was back to ramrod straight, like he was standing on ceremony. Pat shuffled forwards in his seat so they were sat almost knee to knee, and leaned his elbows casually on his thighs. The Captain didn’t move away. That was a win. 

Eventually, the parade of veterans started, and Pat smiled. It was always a hell of a thing. His dad had loved it so much. It was nice to see it again. He wanted to ask if the Captain saw anyone he knew; a lot of the oldest people were from the second war, after all, but he kept the question to himself.

They were near the edge here, and he didn’t want Cap to go over. 

Instead he kept half an eye on him, but let him watch in peace. Cap’s body language didn’t really change; he was still sat stiffly, and his hands were tight around the stick on his lap. But he didn’t look miserable as such, and he had loosened his grip enough that the white knuckles were gone. 

As columns of old men and women marched past, some raising their arms in salute, the Captain’s face softened. At the sight of a small boy, wearing his grandfather’s medals, Pat heard him swallow and – without thinking, as though he were comforting Kitty or Mary – he put a hand out and rested it on the Captain’s knee. Well, too late now to take it back. 

Cap twitched and turned to look at him, but Pat just smiled benignly and tilted his head towards the television screen. 

“It’s alright. Whatever it makes you feel, Cap. It’s alright.”

The Captain didn’t reply, but he didn’t shake off Pat’s hand, and that was pretty much as good an answer as Pat was going to get. 

And it was more than enough. 

For now, it was absolutely plenty.

**Author's Note:**

> If we take Ben's age as the approximate age for the Captain then Cap absolutely could have fought in the First World War. Since I figured that out, I have never known peace. 
> 
> I don't know for sure if the Remembrance Parade was exactly the same when Pat was alive but it is my story and I can do what I want :D


End file.
